The Italians conceived a bitter hatred against Lombe for having broken in upon their monopoly and diminished their trade. In revenge, therefore, according to William Hutton, the historian of Derby, they "determined _his_ destruction, and hoped that of his works would follow." An Italian woman was despatched to corrupt her two countrymen who assisted Lombe in the management of the works. She obtained employment in the factory, and gained over one of the Italians to her iniquitous design. They prepared a slow poison, and administered it in small doses to Lombe, who, after lingering three or four years in agony, died at the early age of twenty-nine. The Italian fled; the woman was seized and subjected to a close examination, but no definite proof could be elicited that Lombe had been poisoned. Lombe was buried in great state, as a mark of respect on the part of his townsmen. "He was," says Hutton, "a man of quiet deportment, who had brought a beneficial manufactory into the place, employed the poor, and at advanced wages,--and thus could not fail to meet with respect; and his melancholy end excited much sympathy." II.--WILLIAM LEE. In the Stocking Weavers' Hall, in Redcross Street, London, there used to hang a picture, representing a man in collegiate costume in the act of pointing to an iron stocking-frame, and addressing a woman busily knitting with needles by hand. Underneath the picture appeared the following inscription: "In the year 1589, the ingenious William Lee, A.M., of St. John's College, Cambridge, devised this profitable art for stockings (but, being despised, went to France), yet of iron to himself, but to us and to others of gold; in memory of whom this is here painted." As to who this William Lee was, and the way in which he came to invent the stocking-frame, there are conflicting stories, but the one most generally received and best authenticated is as follows:-- William Lee, a native of Woodborough, near Nottingham, was a fellow of one of the Cambridge Colleges. He fell in love with a young country lass, married her, and consequently forfeited his fellowship. A poor scholar, with much learning, but without money or the knowledge of any trade, he found himself in very embarrassed circumstances. Like many another "poor scholar," he might exclaim:-- "All the arts I have skill in, Divine and humane; Yet all's not worth a shilling; Alas! poor scholar, whither wilt thou go?"